Captive
by freakylikethis
Summary: For centuries, Katherine Pierce has been running from Klaus's thirst for vengeance, but she's finally found just the thing to appease his anger - and get him the hell off her back. Now she just has to get her hands on Elena Gilbert. Which means driving Elena out of the arms of Stefan Salvatore - and into the arms of his brother.
1. Ch 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This just happened to be the way Damon and Katherine's long awaited reunion played out in my head - hot dirty sex aside, this is ultimately a Delena story. Be patient, we'll get there.

* * *

The first words Damon Salvatore spoke to the woman he'd once loved - and would now love to loathe - were deceptively cool. Because damned if she didn't still make his blood run hot.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Miss Pierce?"

Katherine's stunning face fell. Her lower lip jutted out into a sexy little pout. "Well it's nice to see you, too, Damon."

"Spare me the theatrics, Katherine. We both know you wouldn't be here if you didn't want something."

"This place **is **lacking a certain ambiance," she said, abandoning the pretense of hurt feelings with a shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes roamed the shitty little space comprising Damon's temporary residence - a motel room just outside the town of Mystic Falls, Virginia.

"It's called staying off the radar," Damon answered, forcing a mild, disinterested tone. The seedy motel ran more to those looking to rent a room by the hour, but he wasn't all the picky. The place suited his purposes, and in his long, illustrious life, he'd experienced worse. After all, what was a month or so in a crap motel room when you had eternity?

"Can I come in?" Katherine asked, offering her dazzling smile.

"Not like you need an invitation."

"I was being polite," she countered, and he could see in her eyes how much she was loving this long overdue confrontation. And that his attempts to appear distant were entirely transparent to those sharp eyes.

Deciding he might as well get this - whatever this was - over with, Damon gave a mocking little bow and waved her into the room. "If it means you'll leave faster, by all means, join me."

She grinned. "Once upon a time you would've been begging me to come in the moment you saw me in the doorway. You've grown claws, Damon. I like it."

"Fangs, actually. Courtesy of... damn, I can't seem to remember. Maybe you do?"

She strolled into the room, undeterred by his obvious irritation. She wore jeans that had to be part spandex, given the way they hugged her sinful legs like a second skin. Spiked heels added several inches to her lithe frame, which somehow managed to be both curvy and slender. Her body, and the devastating way she used it, screamed sex. Every inch of her was confident and beautiful and sensual; Damon should know, having explored it so many times in the past. Every luscious dip and curve was forever burned into his memory. If he let himself, he could feel her skin burning beneath his fingertips, hear her breath catch when he touched her, taste her soft, generous mouth.

He was trying his hardest not to let himself, but damned if she wasn't making it hard. If she wasn't making him hard. He moved with his own innate grace to take a seat on the creaky motel chair beside the creakier motel table. She had enough ammunition without seeing the obvious evidence of her effect on him.

But she did anyway - she'd always been too clever for her own good, or anyone else's, for that matter. One perfect brow rose as a smile tugged at her lips.

"Looks like part of you is happy to see me." The smug comment made Damon grind his teeth.

"Fuck, Katherine. You made me a vampire, not a eunuch."

"Oh, I could never deprive the female population like that. Why so bitter, Damon? Need I remind you that I gave you precisely what you wanted so desperately?"

"I wanted you," he snapped, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Apparently, you still do," she said, smug as all hell.

"Bravo, Katherine - you can give a guy a hard-on. You can also give a guy a bitch of a headache. What do you want?"

"First things first," she answered, examining the bedspread critically. It looked clean enough, and it wasn't like she was susceptible to germs. Besides, she liked the idea of lounging on his bed, liked the idea of reminding him of the days when they'd shared one. She sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off her heels, and sat back, propping herself up on her elbows. "I get that you're a little pissed, but bygones are bygones and all that. Like I said, I gave you what you were after. Are you honestly gonna tell me you regret it?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, trying to keep the blood in his brain when it wanted to flood south to his cock. "I regret believing for a single second that you'd stick around. Hell, I regret believing a damn thing you've ever said to me. But the vampire thing? That's grown on me." He could match her sexy smirk for sexy smirk, and his eyes smoldered as he ran them over her. "I like being an eternal stud."

"So really, you should be thanking me," she said, just to piss him off.

"Not in this lifetime or any other," he shot back, his smirk vanishing. "You abandoned me to feed or die. Worse, you abandoned me to feed or die with only my little brother for company. Things got dicey for you, this black hole of a town decided to burn out the vampire plague, and you left Stefan and I totally fucking helpless. We died trying to save you. That much I regret. At least if you'd died I could've enjoyed burning in hell right alongside you."

"Oh, don't be dramatic. The Damon I remember would've gone straight to the pearly gates. You were too good. You're much more interesting now." She gave an eloquent little shrug. "One more thing you really should be thanking me for. But if you want to hold a grudge, fine. It was self preservation, darling. Better you - better anyone - die than I. Don't take it so personally."

Something flared in Damon's eyes, something hot and dark, and lust pooled low in Katherine's belly. Business first, or pleasure? She'd play it by ear.

"Look, Damon, I knew Stefan would take care of you. And as far as I've heard it, you're the one who left him. Who knew the younger Salvatore would be so vicious as a vampire? And you just left him to blaze that trail of death and destruction. I wonder how many people died because you didn't care enough to save Stefan from himself."

Damon scoffed. His mask of disinterest was no longer a mask - it was entirely genuine.

"And yet the human race lives on. Don't pretend to care about a few dead humans, Katherine. I don't, and I'm not half the monster you are. Humans are a dime - shit, a penny a dozen. We're predators, they're prey. Guilty consciences are a waste of time."

"You have endless time to waste," she pointed out, head cocked to the side as she surveyed him. Damn, Damon Salvatore was all grown up. And appealing as sin.

"I have endless time to do whatever the hell I want," he said easily. "That doesn't include mourning humans. Screwing them, killing them - screwing them, then killing them? Much more to my taste."

"And you've always had impeccable taste," she told him, grinning.

"Present company notwithstanding," he answered wryly.

Katherine rose in an easy, sinuous movement, crossing the room to stand in front of him. He could smell her spicy scent and hated her for it. Her eyes gleamed with power and sexuality. With Katherine, the two had always been so tangled up in each other they couldn't be separated. "You don't regret being turned, and you don't regret a single one of those nights we had together." Leaning in close, she smiled wickedly. "All those nights spent beside me..." She closed the distance between them to flick her tongue along the tender curve of his earlobe. "All those nights spent inside me..."

"The hell with this," Damon muttered, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her toward him so that she tumbled into his lap. His words were laced with threat when he spoke. "Careful, Miss Pierce. I'm not half the gentleman I used to be."

"Is that a promise?"

His mouth crushed down on hers in a violent clash of lips and tongues and teeth. He nipped her bottom lip once, twice, and the third time sank his teeth in hard enough to draw blood. She let out a purr of pure lust as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and tasted sex and blood.

Pleasure first, she decided, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and giving it a violent tug as she dragged him to the bed. The buttons of his shirt went flying and before he could process what was happening she had him on his back, straddling his hips and rocking hers against the impressive swell of his hard-on. He groaned, drowning in her. She was fierce and feral and fucking delicious - her potency hadn't dimmed a whit in over a century. If anything, Damon thought, she'd become even more intoxicating.

And then her hand slipped to his belt buckle, deftly undoing the fly of his jeans so she could slide her fingers beneath the denim and feel him, hard and thick and throbbing for her. His capacity for coherent thought disappeared in an instant and he groaned, eyes drifting shut as she freed him fully from his jeans and let her fingertips dance down the base of his cock before her hand closed around him. Impossibly, she felt him grow harder in her hand, and for a moment she forgot why she was there in the first place, forgot everything except Damon's body and the things he could do, had done, to hers.

"Off," he demanded roughly, and Katherine was snapped back into reality, hand freezing on his dick, mouth dropping open in surprise. He couldn't possibly be rejecting her.

He actually laughed, reading her expression. "Your clothes, Katherine. Take them off. There's no way you're walking out that door till I've fucked you brainless. Lose the pants."

Christ, this demanding, forceful Damon Salvatore was unbelievably hot. She stood over him on the bed, looking down into his eyes as her fingers went to undo her own jeans. She maintained eye contact as she peeled the denim down those glorious legs of hers, stepping out of the jeans and tossing them to the side.

His eyes were near black with desire. How had she forgotten just how hypnotizing those eyes were? She knew there'd been a reason she'd felt such an overwhelming urge to turn him. She hadn't planned on jumping ship - she'd planned on jumping him until she got bored of that mouth, those hands, that hard, sculpted body. Fate intervened and she'd left Mystic Falls in her proverbial rear view mirror, but she'd never forgotten Damon. Or his brother, for that matter.

But it was Damon she needed now. He was instrumental in everything that came next, and for that reason, she had to keep part of her brain firmly steeped in reality. There would be time for her to lose herself in him later. Now, she had a mission to accomplish.

When she stepped out of her jeans and threw them carelessly to the floor, Damon felt a stab of desire so intense it hurt. She hadn't bothered to wear underwear. The thought of her walking around like that, bare and ready beneath her clothes, was unbearably sexy.

She sank to her knees beside him, pressing kisses to his chest, and every one of his senses was wrapped up in her and blind to the rest of the world. When she moved lower, her tongue tracing the definition of his abs, his hand clenched the bedsheet. When her tongue skimmed lower and traced another body part entirely, Damon's hip jerked upward, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth and making her moan. The vibration of the sound raced through him, and he had a moment to wonder if he'd last long enough to fuck her.

The thought was like a splash of cold water for his brain, waking it up, firing neurons that told him he had to be inside her right that moment, had to come with his cock buried in her velvet heat.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, and her head jerked up. And something in her eyes sent every cell in Damon's body on high alert.

She was up to something. There was a calculating gleam behind the desire clouding her eyes, and he forced himself to remember where he was and precisely what was happening. She'd strolled into this room wanting something, met his hostility with blatant sexuality, and used her body to distract him. What the fuck was she up to?

He could've asked her flat out. Instead, he flipped her to her back and shoved her legs apart, sliding his hands to the backs of her knees and bending her legs so that she was fully exposed to him. Whatever trick she was pulling, she sure as hell wasn't faking her arousal. He released one leg, freeing his hand so he could touch her, spread her open for his viewing pleasure.

"God you've got a hot pussy," he growled, looking down at her. And before she could form a response, he rammed his cock into her in one swift, violent motion.

Her body bucked and she tried to wrap her legs around him, but his hands kept them firmly spread.

"Watch," he instructed, and her eyes dropped to the spot where they joined together, watched with heat and fascination as he moved in and out of her. Again he let go of one leg, and this time she let it fall open limply, too dazed by the power of each silken thrust to move, to think, to breathe. She couldn't tear her gaze from his hard length as it moved in and out of her, slowly, achingly slowly.

"More," she demanded, suddenly losing patience and freeing herself from his grip to wrap her legs tight around him. He caught her hips in his hands, lifted them, changing the angle of his strokes and making her catch her breath. She was close, so fucking close, to breaking completely, to shattering around him. Seconds away, building up, up, up -

And then he stopped moving entirely, eliciting a whimper from her throat.

"Don't stop," she ordered, pumping her hips to force him deeper. He pulled her close, letting her secure her legs around his waist before standing. She was wrapped around him like a fucking vine, twined with him, skin to skin, heat to heat, and her eyes opened in confusion when she realized they were suddenly vertical.

"What - "

"Here," he managed, and she let out a little yelp of surprise when her bare bottom came in contact with the cold wood of the dresser drawer. It was just the right height for him to fuck her into oblivion, and she balanced on the edge of the dresser, held in place only by his bruising, beautiful hands.

She arched her back and he drove deeper, harder, faster, until he knew she was about to break. He could feel her muscles clenching tight around his cock, could feel her trembling, desperate for him to push her over the edge.

And again, he stopped moving, mid-stroke. Kept her body still with his firm grasp as he slowly pulled out of her, until only the head of his swollen shaft was still inside her. Pulled further back and left her achingly empty.

"But - "

"Why are you here, Katherine?" It was a harsh demand, and it was taking all his self-control to separate his brain from his body. All he wanted to do was plunge into her, come inside her, feel her contract around him. But he had to know what she was after, other than the mind-blowing orgasm he held just out of her reach.

Her eyes opened, and he knew she would tell him anything if he'd just let her come. They were dark and desperate, and he felt a brutal surge of satisfaction knowing he'd outmaneuvered Katherine Pierce, manipulator extraordinaire.

"Please," she begged, "Please, Damon."

He gave her a few more inches, watched with almost clinical detachment as she tried fruitlessly to take more of him, to take all of him. But he was brutal, totally focused, refusing to give her any more until she answered his questions. He withdrew again, felt a dark and delicious rush of satisfaction when she whimpered.

"If you want any more of this," he murmured, rocking his hips just the slightest bit so she could feel the head of his cock pressed to her hot, wet, entrance, "You're going to tell me exactly what you're doing here."

He moved with agonizing slowness, pushing himself a little deeper, loving the fact that she was making incoherent noises, desperate ones, loving the fact that he'd finally conquered her.

"I need you to help me," she managed raggedly, thinking of nothing but the release he could give her.

"Help you with what?" A little deeper this time, then another rapid withdrawal.

"Jesus, Damon, just fuck me!"

"With what?" He repeated, pulling out further.

"Who," she answered, letting out another desperate whimper.

"With who, then?"

"No one who matters," she said, arching her back again, trying to rock her body forward, upward, sideways, whatever goddamn direction was necessary so he could just be inside her again.

"You're so close," he crooned into her ear, bending his torso forward to nip at her jaw while remaining entirely stationary from the hips down. "I'll give you what you want, sweetheart. But unlike you, I can be patient."

Which was a lie, of course - he was fairly certain he was going to kill himself trying to fuck her into submission, but she was too far gone to see how hard it was for him to hold back.

"She doesn't matter," Katherine managed, sounding near tears. "Please, Damon, please."

"Who, Katherine?"

"God damn it," she cursed, opening her eyes and staring up at him, fury and desire blazing bright. "Her name is Elena, okay? Elena Gilbert."

He knew that name. Why did he know that name?

"What about her?" he asked, giving her more of him, feeling her start to convulse around his rock hard dick. "Almost, Katherine," he whispered, shifting the slightest bit forward so that a strangled sound caught in her throat. "You're almost there. Tell me what I'm supposed to do with Elena Gilbert."

Katherine whimpered again, and it was music to his ears.

"I hate you," she breathed, "I absolutely hate you, Damon."

"Let me fuck you, Katherine," he taunted. "Tell me about Elena, and I'll fuck you senseless."

"I need her," Katherine ground out between clenched teeth. "And I need you to get her for me."

"What for?"

"Klaus," she breathed, tipping her head back, giving in to the needs of her body and throwing caution to the wind. He wanted to know, she'd tell him. "Klaus wants her, I want Klaus. Bait. She's bait, and you're gonna keep her safe for me until he comes for her. Okay? He's gonna come for her, and I'm going to end something that's hundreds of years in the making."

Damon's eyes roamed her features, and his knees nearly gave out from under him as relief weakened his body. She was telling the truth. She was too far gone to hold out any longer.

"You know what you're gonna do?" he asked, his voice almost gentle.

"What?" she answered, still trying to catch him off guard, still trying to regain the control she'd so thoroughly relinquished.

"You're going to come for me."

The leash on his willpower snapped, and he slammed into her like an animal, harder and harder, claiming her with his cock, owning her with his body.

"Yes," she breathed, and did.

Convulsions rocked her body, her muscles trembled, and as the orgasm tore through her, he let himself go.


	2. Ch 2

Damon drummed restless fingers on the steering wheel of his baby blue Camaro. He was parked on an unpaved side street tucked away from the empty length of road that stretched from the Salvatore Boarding House toward the quaint town of Mystic Falls. Well-hidden by the line of trees bordering the otherwise deserted breadth of land, he sat in the dark, sharp eyes sweeping the area and hummed absently along with a Beatles' song playing softly on the stereo.

Between its covert position and easy access to the highway, it was a prime spot for a speed trap. Or an ambush.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the dash. Just past midnight - the witching hour, he thought wryly. If all went according to plan, Elena Gilbert would come tearing around the bend any moment now like a bat out of hell.

And unwittingly into the arms of the devil. He smiled, amused by the thought. He'd make for a damn good Lucifer, with that wicked mouth and those beautiful, hypnotic blue eyes. That low, husky voice that could talk you into all manner of dangerous things, that sinuous, graceful body, long and lean, one you'd follow to the ends of the earth. His lips quirked as he warmed to the idea. He'd quite enjoy playing the role of devil in poor Elena's life. Captor, keeper, commander.

He wondered what she'd looked like and whether or not there'd be any other perks to the intriguing mission he'd undertaken for Katherine. When he'd asked, she'd sent him a slow and mysterious smile.

"You'll know her when you see her," she'd promised, eyes dancing with mischief. It had clearly given her great pleasure to get the upper hand once more, and though in the aftermath of the truly phenomenal sex she'd tried to claw his eyes out, he knew she'd enjoyed every bit of their afternoon together. Katherine liked things heated and passionate, a little unpredictable and a lot wild.

Yes, she liked it when life tossed the odd curve ball her way. It helped her stay quick and ready, but for the most part, every move Katherine made was deliberate and to her advantage. If it wasn't such an irritating quality, it might have been admirable.

He'd taken the job of securing little Elena Gilbert for a few reasons, curiosity and boredom topping the list. Well, that and the always appealing desire to screw with his little brother. It had been decades since he'd terrorized Stefan. It wouldn't do to let little bro get too comfortable - and apparently, that's just what he'd done.

Damon had come to Mystic Falls planning on wreaking havoc on Stefan's life, reminding his brother that when he'd promised Stefan an eternity of misery, he meant it. The promise entailed creativity - eternity was a long time, after all - and the ability to hold a serious grudge. Damon fit the criteria perfectly. His brother had damned his existence long, long ago. Damon was only returning the favor.

Not for the first time, the promise also required a total disregard for the worth of human life. An absolute lack of conscience. There was every likelihood that Elena Gilbert would be dead by the end of all this. Okay, it was more of a certainty. But hey, Elena was human, and humans came with expiration dates. Hers would just expire a little ahead of schedule.

As if he'd summoned her, the sound of an angry engine teased Damon's near subsonic hearing and he grinned. Places, people. It was show time.

Elena was shaking uncontrollably. A distant part of her brain warned her not to get behind the wheel of a car in her current state - it was an accident waiting to happen. But there was no way in hell she'd spend the night, no way in hell she'd spend another moment, in the Salvatore house.

God, she was stupid. He'd lied to her from day one, hadn't he? Every word out of his mouth had been complete and utter bullshit.

Why did she have to discover that now? Why not days ago, why not _hours_ ago, before he'd used that mouth on her, before he'd made her own mouth gasp his name?

Tears blurred her vision and she struggled to regulate her breathing. Now was not the time to hyperventilate. She could collapse into a puddle of tears at home, if she could just get there.

None of it made _sense_, she thought desperately, then cursed as the first drops of rain started falling. In seconds the sky opened up in one of the abrupt late summer storms typical of Southern Virginia. She flicked her windshield wipers on, setting them to their fastest speed, and eased up on the gas pedal just a bit.

She took another ragged breath and wondered if all this, the past several weeks of her life, had been a dream. Maybe she'd gone into a coma after the crash on Wickery Bridge, and she was in some drug-deluded state where vampires were real.

God, you know your life is falling to pieces when you find yourself wishing you were in a coma, Elena thought bitterly. And it's not like she could deny all the things she'd seen with her own eyes. The cuts that healed impossibly fast, the fangs. The ageless, perfect face. She'd seen Stefan's signature on the original Founder's documents, written with quill and ink on parchment.

Parchment, like the picture she'd held tonight.

She brought a hand to her own cheek and flicked her eyes to the rear view mirror, still in shock. It was the same face she'd always had, of course... but it felt different. Like a stranger's. Because it _was_ a stranger's.

A stranger who had known Stefan back in the days of hoopskirts and Confederate grays. A stranger with features absolutely identical to Elena's. A stranger who'd sat for a portrait over 150 years ago, offering the photographer a sweet smile even as her eyes promised something unmistakably spicy.

Elena wondered if she'd ever worn an expression like that in her life. Likely not - there was something calculated on the woman's face - on her face. God, it was all so damn confusing. Why had Stefan sought her out in the first place? She knew about Katherine, Stefan's lost love and the woman who had made him what he was today. She knew Katherine was devious and manipulative and apparently irresistible. It was strange, but Elena recognized that irresistibility despite never having seen it in her own reflection. She was pretty, yes, even beautiful when the occasion called for it (and in Mystic Falls, where Founder's Day celebrations and Miss Mystic Pageants were the norm, those occasions weren't all that occasional). But Katherine... Katherine took that face, their face, to a whole new level. She was stunning, entirely captivating. She held an indescribable, undeniable allure all her own. And something about that allure was unmistakably dangerous.

Would she ever be able to look at her reflection so thoughtlessly again? Elena pondered the thought bleakly, hating Stefan even more for robbing her of her identity. He'd told her all about the dazzling Katherine Pierce, had been entirely forthcoming about his time with his vampire lover.

He'd simply neglected to mention the fact that Katherine could've been Elena's long lost twin. He'd only had a thousand chances to mention the fact - one that seemed more than a little important. Where did Elena come into play in whatever sick game Stefan was playing? She'd been told Katherine was dead, burned in the church fire back in 1864, and she'd taken it as the truth. Was it, though? She could hardly trust Stefan's word at this point.

And if she wasn't dead, did she know about Elena? Did Katherine, the selfish, reckless vampire who cared for nothing but herself, know she had a twin, a, what was the word... doppelganger? And if she did know... Elena shuddered. She didn't know much about Katherine, not really, but she knew, somehow, intuitively, that the illustrious Miss Pierce would be highly interested in the existence of her doppelganger. She might even want Elena dead. Or worse, she'd want to have Elena by her side. Katherine had felled masses wielding the sole weapon of her beauty - it made sense that she'd want to take advantage of a new, untested blade.

There were so many thoughts running rampant in Elena's mind. Anger - no, fury, with Stefan. Simultaneous hurt and longing, because he'd been everything good for such a short while, had made everything good just by being in her life. By bringing love into it again. Regret for the things she'd done with Stefan, relief that she'd stopped him before they'd gone too far. Although, to be fair, he hadn't seemed like he was in a huge rush. He'd wanted her first time, their first time, to be special, romantic, not some quick tumble in his bedroom on a school night.

Of course, why would he be in any rush at all? He'd already been there, done that. Oh, God, the idea made her shiver. Was that what it was about? Had Stefan wanted to relive the nights he'd spent with Katherine? Had he wanted a redo, where instead of rushing into a scandalous affair he courted Elena, his modern-day Katherine, and romanced her as she deserved?

It was all too much, and as Elena rounded the bend leading toward town and home and safety, she tried to clear her mind. Tried to empty it of Stefan and his sick machinations, of Katherine, who would surely haunt her endlessly whether or not she was dead.

God, Elena hoped Katherine was dead.

A flash of lightning lit the sky, and Elena's heart beat double-time. She was almost home, where she could crawl into bed and hold the teddy bear her mother gave her when she was still a child, where she could bury her head in her pillow and scream or cry. Or both.

If it hadn't been for the second fork of lightning illuminating the road, Elena wouldn't have seen the figure standing there, unmoving, smack dab in the middle of the street. She wouldn't have slammed the brake, something you NEVER did when standing water was involved. The wheels locked up as her car hydroplaned, skimming along an endless puddle by the roadside. Elena fought the wheel in sheer, blind terror, but it was useless. She could only pray to a God she wasn't sure she still believed in that she'd survive what was going to be a spectacular accident.

The front bumper hit something, hard - was it the person in the road? The thought flew out of Elena's head just as the car itself took flight, flipping end over end only to land upside down with a bone-breaking thud in the middle of the street.

Damon really hoped he hadn't killed the girl before the fun could start. He hadn't expected her to fight the car so damn hard - she was supposed to be an emotional mess, and her obvious quick-thinking made him both wary and excited. She was already showing promise as a source of entertainment. It only made everything sweeter to know his brother's girl wasn't an empty-headed doll.

He wiped his face of any amusement as he walked to the car, and when he reached the driver's side door of the Jeep he crouched low, peering in the shattered window. And for a moment, shock rendered him paralyzed.

_What the hell?_

An impossibly familiar pair of brown eyes stared at him, dazed and clouded with pain. An impossibly familiar pair of soft, sweet lips parted, but no sound came out. Which was probably for the best - he wasn't sure how he'd react to Katherine's voice coming out of Elena's mouth.

He fought to clear his mind, letting a gentle smile curve his lips.

"Hey, are you okay?" He gave a self-deprecating, and entirely fake, laugh. "What a stupid question, I'm sorry. Can you get out? Should I call an ambulance?"

Elena Gilbert, doppelganger of Katherine Pierce, looked into Damon Salvatore's haunting blue eyes. She wondered dimly if he was there to escort her into heaven or hell. A moment of clarity dawned, and she managed to speak.

"Did I - hit you?"

The blood was rushing to her head and stars danced before her eyes. The scent of her blood teased the air, and Damon swallowed back a staggeringly fierce rush of hunger. He had to close his eyes and breathe through the instant transformation before she saw the red eyes, the standing veins. He hadn't reacted so strongly to the scent of blood in years, decades, even. Hadn't wanted to feast so desperately, or so savagely.

He stopped to take another breath. Wondered if he should turn away. He wasn't sure he could resist this soft, human version of Katherine. Wasn't sure he could bear to ruin the poor girl.

It was that thought that snapped him out of it. Damon Salvatore didn't worry about human casualties. Damon Salvatore loved nothing more than ruining innocents. And this whole mess of a situation had just gotten a great deal more intriguing.

There was no way in hell he'd walk away. Instead, he knelt in a pool of rain and blood and shattered glass and slowly, with smooth, gentle movements, extricated Elena from the car, holding her in his arms. She was limp but still conscious, and she was looking at him with misery and confusion written all over her face. A trickle of blood ran from her hairline down her temple, and Damon wanted to lick it off. Instead, he let the softening drops of rain wash her face clean.

"I need to go home," she whispered. Her speech was slurred, and he wondered if the crash caused a concussion. She was remarkably unhurt by the ordeal, but she'd definitely gotten a fair share of blows to the head when the car flipped.

"Shh," he whispered, absently pressing a finger to her lips and settling her body more comfortably in his arms. He crossed the road with her, back to the hidden spot where he'd left his car. With infinite and deceptive gentleness, he eased her into the passenger seat.

"I need to go home," she repeated dazedly.

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured. He climbed into the driver's seat, then reached across her to rummage through the glove box. After a moment, he found what he was looking for. He kept his eyes locked on hers and took her hand in his. Rolled up the fabric of her sodden sleeve, baring her forearm. "Soon, Elena," he said, still holding her gaze. "Very soon."

She barely felt the sting of the needle as he slid it under the tender skin of her arm. And only had a moment to wonder dimly when she'd told him her name before darkness claimed her.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sometimes I'm just as anxious to publish things as you guys may be to read them. It's 4am and I haven't re-read this yet so I apologize in advance for any errors or inconsistencies, my brain is a bit mushy right now. Feel free to leave a review and let me know if I screwed anything up here. I'm just enjoying developing the relationship between Damon and Elena and everything else is kinda secondary. But I'll polish this later, if it needs polishing. Enjoy!

* * *

They were crossing the state line when Elena reluctantly dragged herself from sleep. She felt oddly heavy and sluggish, and her head weighed about a thousand pounds. She slit her eyes open the tiniest bit and immediately whimpered at the glare of sunlight.

Sunlight... She kept her eyes screwed tightly shut as she attempted to get her bearings. She remembered going to Stefan's the night before... They'd been kissing in his bed, and things got heated. And he'd stopped her before she could finally experience firsthand the fascinating act of sex, telling her there was plenty of time for that. He'd taken her with his hands, with his mouth, instead, and driven her to a velvet world where everything was soft and sensuous. Then she'd rested her head on his chest and they'd dozed off.

Something had woken her, though. She couldn't remember anything specific, just that she'd been dead to the world one moment and keenly alert the next. She'd squinted at the clock on his bedside table, looked at the beautiful specimen of masculinity beside her, pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and crawled out of bed.

She'd been rifling through the papers on his desk to leave a note for him when she'd seen the picture. The picture of Katherine. The picture of her.

And then it was all rushing back to Elena in a disturbing flood - the terrified, confused, furious drive away from the boarding house, the sudden downpour, the lightning illuminating the figure in the road... A crash, she thought. She'd crashed the car. Someone stopped to help. No, no one stopped. There hadn't been another car, had there? She couldn't remember.

There had been a person. A man. A man with disturbingly vibrant blue eyes. She didn't remember his face, just blazing blue eyes that told her everything would be okay. And she'd believed those eyes. They were too beautiful to lie.

Then he'd helped her from the wreck of her car... she'd been slipping in and out of consciousness, vaguely remembered his arms around her, carrying her. She must have blacked out at that point. She vaguely remembered a car - where had that come from? Yes, he'd put her in the passenger seat of his car. Then, nothing.

Suddenly she knew she was still in that car. Without opening her eyes she breathed in, smelling the faint traces of Old Spice and cinnamon. She was with a stranger, in a stranger's car. Quite possibly in a strange land, too. She didn't want to know. She'd much prefer blocking everything out, dealing with reality later and losing herself in sleep. She was safe enough in sleep, or had been so far.

A lesser woman would've drifted off again. Hell, Elena almost succumbed to the temptation.

And then she remembered something that had her eyes snapping open, and they were dark, wary, and still a bit glazed from shock.

"How the hell did you know my name?"

It was meant to come out sharply, forcibly, but instead the words dragged like sandpaper across her vocal cords. She sounded raspy, weary, and hardly on top of her game.

The disastrously handsome driver of the classic muscle car glanced over at Elena. His insane eyes were hidden by reflective aviator lenses, but his brows rose over the rims of the sunglasses and his mouth - a ridiculously sensual mouth, she couldn't help but noticed - quirked in a smile.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Damon said cheerfully. Without taking his eyes off the road he reached into the seat behind her, and her flinch was automatic. He noticed, but didn't comment, and she heard him rooting around in the back seat for something. A moment later he was dangling a plastic bag of goodies in her face. "I got you a Coke and a Diet Coke. And water, too. Plus honey roasted peanuts. You do like peanuts, don't you?" He asked the question in a straight, serious voice, and she sent him a look. He laughed. "Dumb question. Everyone loves peanuts."

"Probably not people who are allergic to them." Her voice was steadier now, and this time it did come out sharp, more like a retort than a response. The whole situation was too strange. She felt oddly at ease, which she truly shouldn't. She didn't even know his name - still hadn't asked him, actually.

Because he still hadn't answered her first question.

And then he did, in a roundabout way.

"I was told you were sweet tempered. I guess Stefan gets to see a special side of you."

Every cell in her body tensed when he said Stefan's name. She spoke in an admirably calm voice, but her fingers were twisting the handles of the plastic bag he'd plopped in her lap, betraying the nerves.

"And how exactly do you know Stefan?" The knowledge that he did was both unnerving and comforting. At least it gave them a connection, however tenuous. "Who are you? I appreciate you helping me and everything, but I don't know you, and - "

"Relax," he said soothingly.

"That's exactly what a serial killer would say," she shot back.

"A serial killer would say, it puts the lotion on the skin," he answered in a wicked impersonation of Anthony Hopkins a la Silence of the Lambs.

She shuddered, unknowingly getting mental points from Damon for obviously recognizing the reference.

"You're really not making me feel better..."

"Damon," he supplied.

"Okay, Damon: how do you know Stefan?"

"Stefan and I? We go way back," he answered, and there was humor in his voice, though Elena had no idea what could be funny about the statement. "To the cradle, that is. I'm Damon Salvatore. Stefan's my brother."

Elena's sluggish brain took a moment to process that information, and then her whole body stiffened with tension.

"That would mean you're..."

"Ohhh," he drawled after a moment. "Man, how long have you known Stefan? I see he's already divulged his juiciest secrets. No, I'm not a - you know," he said, miming fangs. "I'm also not actually his brother. More like his grand something. But we do go back to the cradle - he was just a bit too big for it. I'm pretty sure he's my godfather," he continued, enjoying himself. "But you don't go around introducing a guy who doesn't look any older than you as a godparent. And definitely not a grandparent. It's easiest to say we're brothers, that's all. We're close enough to be, anyway."

Elena's head was really hurting, and she closed her eyes, sifting through his words.

"So you're a descendant of Stefan. And you're close? He's never mentioned you."

"Of course not. Stefan's not one to brag." Damon sent her a slow smile and she returned it in spite of herself, shaking her head as she did so.

"I'm still lost here," she said, snapping herself out of it. His smile was incredibly distracting, and she was entranced by him and not entirely comfortable with the knowledge. God, girls must go crazy for him, she thought. She refused to be one of them. "How come I've never heard of you? Stefan's impressive modesty aside," she added quickly.

"I'm really not sure," Damon told her. "I haven't been around for awhile. But I had some news for him and... it's the kind of thing I needed to tell him in person. Of course, I never got that far, thanks to your spectacular driving skills." Just to goad her he rolled his eyes. "Why we give women licenses, I just don't know."

"Charming," she said dryly.

"Seriously, what happened there? I didn't see the crash happening - heard it, though. I couldn't have been more than a mile away, heading in the opposite direction. Towards Casa Salvatore. You were lucky as hell, Elena," he said, sounding surprisingly stern. "That accident could've killed you."

"I know all about accidents," she said sharply. Then added, in a softer tone, "And all about being lucky."

Damon was silent for a moment, obviously understanding that her words had some deeper significance.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered gently.

She considered it - shocked herself by considering it - then shook her head. "I want to talk about this," she said instead.

"What?" he asked, all innocence.

"Please, Damon? I'm tired, and I'm hurting, and I need to know that..." Her hand came up to toy with the necklace she hadn't taken off since the moment Stefan placed it around her neck only to find naked skin. "Where's my necklace?" she demanded, suddenly, irrationally panicked. It was essentially a protective talisman, he'd said. To keep her safe. Fat lot of good it had done.

"I don't know," Damon answered, lying easily. "I don't remember you wearing one. You were upside down in the car, Elena," he added gently. "Maybe it fell off."

She rubbed at her neck, feeling intensely vulnerable. And she hated that vulnerability, hated the question she had to ask him in order to feel a little more secure. Because by asking him, he'd know how freaked out she really was - and Elena was someone who kept it together. She'd had to ever since the accident - the first accident.

"Look, Damon, ever since your... brother, whatever - ever since Stefan came into my life, things have been anything but normal. And last night, when I left his place, well, I'll spare you the details but basically, he betrayed my trust. And I'm big on trust. So tell me - look at me and tell me... Can I trust you?"

He was silent for a long, tense moment. Thinking about how deliciously vulnerable his poor passenger was. And reluctantly admiring her for being up front and to the point about her situation. She had grit, this Katherine Pierce doppelganger. And the longer he was around her, the less she was looking like Katherine and the more she was simply Elena. Which was weird, since Katherine had been under his skin for multiple lifetimes. Talking to her double, yet recognizing that double as an entirely separate person, was kind of weird. And kind of liberating.

She didn't have the hold on him she once had. And he'd definitely had the upper hand by the end of their little whatever it was. He could still hear her begging him, could see her perched on the dresser, desperate for him. Reveled in the memory of her, weak and stripped of all her defenses.

He wondered idly if he could make Elena beg. Decided quite suddenly, and quite firmly, that before things were through, he would. Not for her life or anything as dramatic as that. And not as a means of something that bordered on sexual torture.

He just wanted her to beg for him, and for more.

"You're not inspiring a lot of confidence right now," Elena said uneasily, breaking into his thoughts. He was hard as iron, imagining screwing her. Would it be different than Katherine? Better, worse?

Yeah. He was most definitely going to have to satisfy his curiosity on that.

"Hold on," he said mildly, not betraying even a hint of his thoughts. He scanned the shoulder of the road until he found a decent place to pull off. Putting the car in park, he released the gear shift and slipped off his sunglasses, so she could look into his eyes and know he was telling her the gospel truth, even as he lied through his teeth.

"Yes, Elena. You can trust me."

She stared into those eyes and believed it. There was such earnestness there - it was endearing, actually. He obviously wanted her to trust him, not because he had ulterior motives but because, well, he wanted her to. He was looking at her like her response mattered, like she mattered, and good God he was sexy.

She wished suddenly, irrationally but surprisingly seriously, that she'd met this Salvatore first. The human one with the devastating eyes that didn't turn red when faced with blood.

"Okay," she said finally, nodding. "Now tell me why I'm in your car and we're nowhere near Mystic Falls."

He'd toyed with the story in his head, refining it occasionally. It was mostly truth. Well, an edited, revised, manipulated and proofread version of the truth. Which probably counted as a lie in Elena's book, but his was much more flexible.

"Do you know much about Stefan before he became a vampire? And, you know, how it happened?"

Elena's voice was empty when she answered. "Katherine."

"Right. Okay, first off - you're with me because Stefan and I agreed it was the safest place for you to be, and you're nowhere near Mystic Falls for the same reason. I told you I needed to tell him something, in person?"

Elena was suddenly sure she knew where this conversation was going, and she wanted to stop it, wanted to go back to the mindless emptiness of sleep. He could see it plain as day on her face - she knew what was coming, dreaded it, but wouldn't hide from it. She was quite a girl, this Elena Gilbert.

"It's her, isn't it?"

"What?" He was playing dumb, waiting to see how she did assembling the facts on her own. Well, the facts as far as she knew them.

"Katherine. Stefan said everyone thought she was dead. She's not, is she?"

He was silent, which answered her question.

"Does she know about me?" her voice was small and utterly weary.

"I really don't know. I wish I could answer that for you. She's unpredictable, though - you can never tell which way she'll jump," Damon said, almost fondly. "So -"

"Wait - how do you know her so well?"

Shit. Good question. He gave her an entirely believable answer - a true one, even.

"I, uh..." he wore a chagrined, embarrassed expression. She bought it - that much was evident by the face she made.

"God, really? You too?"

"Hey, I didn't know who she was! It's not like _I_ knew her. She was at a bar and she... well, she kinda seduced me."

"I bet that was really hard for both of you," Elena muttered, baffled by the sting of what was most definitely bitterness. Another Salvatore corrupted by the dreaded Katherine Pierce. Why bother giving men brains if they clearly preferred thinking with their dicks?

"Oh, it was hard all right," he said, grinning.

"You're disgusting."

"Look at your reflection, then tell me you wouldn't go home with you if you asked you to."

"Run that by me once more?"

"It's really weird. I mean, I spent a couple nights with her, but I got fairly well acquainted with her... attributes. I can't help but wonder if you guys really are the _exact_ same." He was being deliberately provocative, baiting her, testing the waters, and she was quick to respond.

"That's sick. Don't you dare think about me like I'm her. You'll just have to live the rest of your life wondering the answer to your sick little question. Sorry to disappoint you." Her tone was pure acid, and yet again he found himself raising his palms in a gesture of peace.

"Whoa, I'm sorry - out of line. It was a joke, and a bad one. You're very clearly two different people. Very clearly."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Elena said, frowning.

"It's only bad for one of you," he responded with a sweet smile. "That's all beside the point," he went on, leaving her to ponder his words. "The point is, she obviously knew who I was from the very start. She just vanished - there when the lights went out, gone when the sun came up. That isn't all that surprising. Everyone's done the walk of shame. But she left a note. All it said? Say hi to Stefan for me. With a big kiss mark under the words."

Since it was a lovely day and Elena was now awake to enjoy it, Damon reached across the car to her side, pleased when she didn't instinctively draw back, and flipped the latch to put up the roof of the convertible. He hadn't loved much in his life, but his Camaro? The car was his baby. He unlatched his side and spun the crank that collapsed the folding roof backward.

"Too nice a day not to take advantage of a convertible top," he explained, and Elena didn't argue. She leaned her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes, breathing fresh, woodsy air and enjoying the sun as it bathed her skin.

"Anyway, I didn't want to jump to any conclusions so I figured I'd come down and talk to Stefan about it. I called him to let him know I was almost there and I was on the phone with him when I heard the crash. I got you out of the car, flipped out a little because twenty-four hours ago I'd never heard the word 'doppelganger' in my life, and Stefan explained the connection to Katherine. Thanks to you, I could verify that the girl back home most definitely was Katherine Pierce, and Stefan asked me to take you somewhere safe. There's a cabin up in the mountains here - we're in the Shenandoah Valley and from there we'll climb up into the Appalachains. Stefan's gonna track Katherine down, figure things out from his end, and I get the much more enjoyable job of babysitting."

Elena didn't bother opening her eyes, but Damon saw her jaw tense. "So nice of you guys to ask for my input."

"In all fairness, you were unconscious, Stefan was freaked out to hear about Katherine, I was freaked out to see you - it was a spur of the moment plan. He said your brother's safe at home with your aunt, and school doesn't start for what, two weeks? Giving Stefan plenty of time to track down Katherine, and you plenty of time to experience the great outdoors. You like hunting?"

Elena recoiled, and Damon laughed.

"Me neither. Although shooting - non-living things, that is - can be fun as hell. So if you ask me, we've kinda got the bases covered. Your family is safe, Stefan's on the lookout for Katherine, and you get a rustic vacation. Plus, I get to know the chick Stefan seems to be disgustingly in love with."

"First, your magic formula is missing my agreement in any of these ridiculous plans. And second, you don't lie like that to someone you're in love with."

Damon shrugged. "Not my business. Love's overrated anyway."

"Don't tell me someone broke your heart?"

"I do have one," he countered, and she immediately felt bad.

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean, you just don't look like the type who gets his heart broken."

"What type do I look like?" he asked, curious.

"The type who breaks hearts," she responded, then paused to gauge his reaction, hoping she hadn't offended him.

Nope - on the contrary, he looked delighted at the prospect. "Everyone needs a hobby," he said, grinning widely. "So tell me, Elena - now that you're awake and capable of giving input, what are your thoughts here? We're not far from the cabin, but if you really want to go back, I'll take you."

It was a bluff, and he hoped to hell she didn't call it. Waited in tense silence for her to do just that.

"No," she finally breathed. "No. A break from Mystic seems like a good idea. How do you know Stefan will even be able to find Katherine, though? Who says she's still around?"

"She's somewhere. Trust me. She timed things this way for a reason, she went after me for a reason, and there's a serious likelihood that she'll go after you for one, too. Katherine plans ahead. She's very... calculating."

"You got to know her well pretty quickly," Elena commented, and Damon shrugged.

"Like recognizes like. I'm not calculating, necessarily, but don't get any illusions about me - at the end of the day, I put myself first. I'm not a particularly good person, Elena," he continued, and his brain was horrified by the words that were coming from some weird place in his chest. "Actually, I'm a bit of an asshole. And I've hurt people, and probably will again." He was silent a moment, thinking about his words and the depth of honesty in them. He wondered how Elena would feel if she knew that when he said he'd 'hurt' people, he didn't just mean emotionally.

She'd be disgusted - no, far worse. His sex life disgusted her, and she didn't know the half, the one-millionth, of it. She'd hate him. And, oddly, he didn't want her to hate him. Not until she absolutely had to, anyway.

Getting himself together, Damon continued. "I'm definitely not a saint like Stefan. Basically the exact opposite. I've got very little loyalty to anyone but myself - and him. I owe him my life. You could even say he made me into the man I am today." Damon paused, grinning to himself, then went on. "The point is, if Stefan needs help, and I can give it, I will. Right now, he needs someone he trusts to look out for you. Are you gonna let me do that?"

She opened her tired eyes and studied him quietly. "For the time being. I don't know about two weeks. But I could use a couple days off from real life."

"I'll take what I can get," Damon answered, sending her a smile that had her forgetting her exhaustion for a fleeting moment. This was the kind of guy who could destroy a girl, she thought. With that self-deprecating, unflinching honesty, the sense of humor, the easygoing attitude...

Too bad his loyalty to Stefan probably made her strictly off limits. Not that she wanted to be _on_ limits, exactly. But she didn't know where things stood with Stefan, or where she wanted them to stand. And Stefan's descendent was a serious hottie.

She watched his hand flick the key in the ignition, watched his long fingers close over the gear shift. And felt pure, unadulterated lust pool low in her belly.

Yeah, he was trouble. But apparently, she was already in trouble. And as she'd said, this was her break from real life. Maybe she'd seduce him. He was painfully sexy and would certainly know how to make her first time memorable - in a good way. He'd be like a practice round. And no one could ask for a more perfect practice dummy.

Shaking the unfamiliar lusty feelings from her head, Elena waited until they'd pulled back onto the road before saying his name.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing over at her, sunglasses back in place so all she could see was her own reflection. And that was the last thing she wanted to get a good look at.

"Thank you."

For the first time since he'd first seen her gorgeous face, Elena's mouth curved in a full, spectacular smile. Exactly the same and entirely opposite from Katherine's. Its sweetness, its goodness, its sexy softness - God, she appealed to him on some primal, almost visceral level. She pulled at him, and it made him nervous. He was suddenly very sure that a girl like her had the potential to ruin him. He hadn't felt vulnerable around a female since he'd grown fangs. But there was that something, that deep-in-the-gut something, and when she smiled at him he felt an answering pull inside him.

She was a girl who could break your heart, he thought. It was a good thing he didn't have one.


End file.
